


Sweet Tooth

by lostinparallel



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4677755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinparallel/pseuds/lostinparallel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael can’t help but stare at him – shooting Gavin glance after glance from the corner of his eye. Gavin’s hair is mussed cutely from leaning against the headrest and the grey light casts faint shadows under his dark eyelashes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Tooth

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this ridiculously cute happy hour](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3f4E_e-2I0) because gavin is so sweet it makes me want to cry.

A soft hum fills the lazy silence as they drive down the highway. The muted whir of traffic and the light sputtering of Michael’s shitty car engine drift through the quiet.

Gavin’s face is smushed against the window, each exhale of breath clouding the glass with little puffs of steam. He clutches two pale blue ice packs to his swollen cheeks, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open. Michael would think Gavin was asleep if not for the constant jiggling of his legs. He shifts his body, wriggling in a futile attempt to get comfortable, and knocks his shoulder against Michael’s.

Michael can’t help but stare at him – shooting Gavin glance after glance from the corner of his eye. Gavin’s hair is mussed cutely from leaning against the headrest and the grey light casts faint shadows under his dark eyelashes.

“Michaaael.” The name passes Gavin’s lips with a pitiful groan, his forehead crumpling with the effort to speak. “Michael, it hurts.”

He looks so young and miserable that it pains Michael to even look at him. “Michael, why…why does my mouth feel funny?” Gavin’s words slur together, tripping over his clumsy tongue.

“They took your wisdom teeth out, Gavvy.” Gavin winces, as though Michael’s words cause him physical harm. He then frowns, brows furrowing in thought.

“Why would they do that, Michael…? I like my teeth. I miss my _teeth_ , Michael.” His head lolls from side to side as they turn a corner, not having the strength to hold it still.

“Your teeth were hurting you. They had to take ’em out.” Michael’s gaze flickers between Gavin and the road ahead of him, torn between concentrating on driving and checking on his delirious friend. He sees Gavin raise a finger, prodding experimentally at his bottom lip. Michael latches onto Gavin’s wrist, pulling his fingers away while keeping his other hand on the wheel.

“Don’t touch your mouth, idiot. You’ll hurt yourself,” he chides. Gavin’s skin is warm beneath Michael’s palm, his pulse beating steadily in his wrist. It’s ridiculously distracting so Michael drops his hand, wrapping his fingers back around the steering wheel.

“Michael, d’you think… d’you think I can have my teeth back?”

Gavin’s words startle a laugh out of Michael; he just sounds so fucking _sad._ It’s pathetic… and really goddamn adorable.

“No, Gavin, you can’t have your teeth back,” Michael snorts, “Why d’ya wanna keep them, anyway? Feeling sentimental?”

“They’re miiine. It’s not fair.” Gavin whines, his lips twisting into a childish pout. He quickly thinks better of it, returning to a neutral expression with a whimpered “Oww.”

“Well too bad, you don’t get to keep them. And stop talking—you’re just making it worse.”

“That’s,” Gavin searches pensively for the right word, “…that’s _stealing._ ”

Michael rolls his eyes. He changes gears, his knuckles brushing against Gavin’s leg as he shifts the gearstick. The first droplets of rain patter against the windscreen, trickling along the glass and collecting in small pools on the hood of the car. Michael moves to turn on the wipers but Gavin’s hand is already there. He slaps the dashboard, fumbling uselessly until his fingers connect with the switch and the wiper blades clear away the rainwater with long swipes of rubber.

Gavin slumps back against his seat, exhausted. His eyes flutter closed, a gentle beat of butterfly wings, and his hand rests on Michael’s thigh.

Michael sighs. This is gonna be a long day.

**

Gavin takes a stupidly long amount of time to get out of the car, complaining and batting Michael’s hand away when he tries to tug Gavin out of the passenger seat. Eventually, Michael gives up and heads up the driveway without him. Gavin hastily stumbles after him, trailing behind like a lost puppy. He almost trips up the stone steps and Michael has to grab onto his waist to steady him.

When they’re safely at the front door, Michael reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out his keys. The metallic jangling catches Gavin’s attention, dragging his eyes away from where they’re fixed on the doormat. He smiles – warm and tender and almost _shy_ , and Michael feels something melt inside of him.

“…I like you,” Gavin says softly. He averts his gaze back to his feet.

Michael feels his lips twitch upwards and he hopelessly tries to school his face into a cool expression, “C’mon, asshole. Let’s get you inside.”

**

They’re curled up on Michael’s bed. Gavin is wrapped in Michael’s duvet like a snug little blanket burrito, dozing peacefully. His head is tucked into the crook of Michael’s neck and his breath ghosts along Michael’s freckled skin.

Michael gazes down at Gavin’s sleeping form and feels a comforting warmth curling in his chest. He smiles and plants a delicate kiss on Gavin’s forehead.

"I like you too."

Gavin hums contentedly in his sleep and Michael allows his eyes to fall shut, drifting off beside him.


End file.
